The Edge of the World Page #3
- PASSED
- Year:
- 1937
- 74 min
- 114 Views
your twin brother and my best friend?
We were to be married today, Ruth.
- (Sobs)
- Maybe you've forgotten that.
Oh, Ruth, I'm sorry.
(Sound of boat approaching)
- James.
- Aye?
You'll be speaking to him?
Mm?
Aye, I will that.
- Is the laird there?
- I canna see him.
That's him.
Aye. And he was only 24, poor laddie.
Very hard on Peter to lose them both.
Aye. And he's not the sort of man
to share his troubles with people.
166 yards of wheat.
Correct.
600 pounds of wool.
The boy and the girl
both feel it very deeply.
It's always worse
for those that are left.
Aye.
Well, with the exception
of the jerseys, that'll be all.
I'll away in and finish my reports.
It's three months are gone and nobody
can do anything with the man.
I'm thinking that for as long
as he sees me every day,
he can't help hating me
for what I've done.
There's no reasoning with him.
I'm best out of the way.
But she'll only do as he wishes.
It's natural enough.
She's all he's got left.
I'll see what I can do.
You won't move him.
I've been talking to your son, James.
He's anxious to go with me
to the mainland.
But that's just...
Oh, aye.
Thought the lad had that on his mind.
He'll be a sad loss to the island.
in every way I can.
You have that, Mr Dunbar.
But if all your young people leave,
you'll find it hard to carry on.
It'll be a thousand pities
if Andrew goes.
He's worth two of any ordinary men.
I make the total
the same as yourself, James.
Oh.
Excuse me, Mr Dunbar,
I have the sheep to see to.
James...?
Aye, it's all right, it's all there.
Here, mind that box, they're eggs.
Take care of yourself, son.
Goodbye, Laird.
Not much heft in them yet, John.
It's the salt spray that blows over
early in the year.
It'll be a poor harvest.
It will.
And the peat's giving out.
I'm back to my old workings now.
And we canna do without the peat.
Nah. The plain fact is,
Robbie was right, poor boy.
We'll win through this winter
but never another.
Peter'll just have to face the facts.
You know, James, someone'll
just have to speak to Peter.
Mm-hm.
Have you any idea where he is?
He'll be away after the sheep
on the cliffs.
Is this true?
Yes.
Andrew Gray's child?
Yes. And you can't take that from me.
Poor lassie.
Poor wee lassie.
(Dream Angus)
Can ye no hush your weepin', oh?
A' the wee lambs are sleepin', oh
Birdies are nestlin',
nestlin' thegether
Dream Angus is hirplin'
o'er the heather
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell
Hush ye, my baby,
Dream Angus has
brought you a dream, my dear
List' to the curlew cryin', oh
Fainter the echoes dyin', oh
Even the birds
and beasties are sleepin'
But my bonny bairn
is weepin', weepin'
Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell
Angus is here wi' dreams to sell
(Reel)
(Whooping)
He'll be here with the summer,
my dear.
Aye, we'll soon be able to send
the letters out now.
If only I could tell him now.
- Looks empty in the evenings.
- Yes.
- Looking for work?
- I might be.
- I need a hand.
- You do?
Aye. Two pound a week and share.
- Where's your boat, Skipper?
- Over yonder by Victoria Pier.
Well, do you want the job?
Not on a damn trawler!
- Oh, particular, are you, lad?
- Whom I work for.
Oh, well, then I'll no keep you.
One of them'll be picked up.
Aye, if they're not blown
too far south.
Nah. This wind'll take them
right among the fishing fleet.
Harbour Master, have you seen
Skipper McFee anywhere?
McFee? Oh, aye.
That's his boat o'er yonder.
Hello!
Have ye a full crew?
(Horns)
I'm looking for you, lad.
- Andrew Gray, isn't it?
- Yes.
- From Hirta?
- Yes.
Robbie Manson was my engineer.
- Robbie?!
- Aye, a good boy.
He was.
I'm glad to meet one of his folks,
so to speak.
I'm glad I met you, Skipper.
- I've a letter for you.
- You have?
Aye. One of these little mail boats.
I picked him up last Wednesday
off Sunborough Head.
- Where is it?
- Back at the "damn trawler".
(Both chuckle)
- From a lassie?
- Yeah.
- She'll be looking for ye.
- Aye.
It's too far to swim, lad.
We're leaving tonight.
Do you still feel particular?
Cos there's no reason why
we shouldna shoot trawl off Hirta.
(Waves crash)
(Wind whistles)
(Seagulls caw)
She canna breathe.
Would it be the croup?
We don't know.
If only we'd got a bigger boat,
we could get to the mainland.
(Softly) Aye.
This gale may blow for a week.
- Can you make out her name?
- No, I canna see it.
You must be brave, Ruth.
It's diphtheria.
Then there's only one chance.
I haven't the skill
to do an operation.
If only we'd got the wireless,
we could send for help.
Is there no hope at all?
None if we can't get her to a doctor.
Away up and get Ruth and the wean.
Right.
Andrew!
(Horn)
This way, Doctor.
Here's your bag, Doctor. Up there.
Skipper...
Fetch a kettle of boiling water!
- A kettle of boiling water, quick.
- I have it here.
- That's great, man.
Well?
Operate.
I've got you both safe now,
and you're not going back.
They'll all be on by noon.
Aye.
What are we going to do
about the cats?
I'm afraid
we'll just have to leave them.
I suppose they'll manage
to make a living in the cliffs.
It's the poor dogs I'm worried about.
They're no good as sheepdogs.
Who's to pay for taking them?
Aye, and then there's the licences.
They'd better be drowned.
Maybe when we get to the mainland
somebody might buy them.
Are you willing to risk that
out of your own pocket? For I'm not.
James, man, I'm away up the Kame.
One of they daft collectors offered
me five pounds for a guillemot's egg.
I know just where it is.
Come on, come on! Here!
Here, James Andrew!
Here, man.
Tie up this dog.
Tell them to drown him
with the others.
(Yelps)
(Bleating)
(Horn)
(Barks)
(Barks)
(Dog barks)
Oh, Peter!
Peter!
(Dog barks)
Oh, Peter!
(Dog barks)
Come here, lad!
- Peter!
- (Echoes) Peter!
- Peter Manson!
- (Echoes) Peter Manson!
(Chasing The Breeze)
Sing in hope,
let's find the breeze
Ho-ro, chasing the breeze
Ho-ro, chasing the breeze
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"The Edge of the World" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 21 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_edge_of_the_world_7474>.
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